


Harry, or Like You Look at Him

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Coda, Episode Related, Feelings Realization, Jealous Steve, M/M, S8E21, season eight related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Steve absolutely noticed the way Danny was looking at Harry that day. It wasn’t that he wasjealous, exactly. He just wondered why Danny didn’t look athimthat way....





	Harry, or Like You Look at Him

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little gratifying fic I simply had to indulge in after yet another fantastic episode with Harry Langford. I adore Harry, and I adore how the boys are with him, and I’ve wanted to do something with that, and I guess I hadn’t ever found the right thing? But this episode handed it to me on a platter, and I simply could not resist.

They’d driven Harry back to his hotel after lingering over beers and finally having lunch-that-was-really-more-dinner, and Harry, gentleman that he is, invited them up to his room for an after-dinner drink, and honestly, Steve had been about to protest, but Danny’d immediately said “Of course,” which had elicited such a broad grin from Harry that even Steve had been a little affected by it.

Obviously, Harry is a very nice looking man. Steve doesn’t think anyone is going to question that. And the romance of a British agent, that accent, the undeniable suaveness, his impeccable clothing, his sophisticated manners... yeah, alright, Steve gets it.

But does Danny have to be so obvious about it?

It’s not just that he’d been watching Harry very closely all day, to have picked up on all those Sherlock-like deductions. Half of that, Steve was able to brush off as one parent being clued in to how another parent would behave in the situation of a missing child. But some of it he can’t entirely dismiss. Some of it... well, some of it honestly makes him a little bit jealous.

And not just because Danny’s been watching Harry so closely. Danny is a detective, and a good one at that. He notices things. But he doesn’t always watch other people quite so closely, quite so _intimately_. And, okay, Steve means other _men_. Because, yes, sometimes when they go out drinking together, they’ll watch and comment on women, and Steve admires Danny’s observations and deductions about them... maybe especially when he uses it to rule women out for one or the other or both of them. That’s become an enjoyable game. Especially when Steve thinks Danny’s faking it, ruling out a woman Steve finds attractive. He likes to imagine Danny’s doing it because he wants to keep him for himself.

So, alright. Maybe Steve’s a little jealous at the way Danny’s been... _observing_ Harry all day. He doesn’t really mean anything by it, he’s just—well, frankly _territorial_ about Danny, and he’s just guarding his turf.

Okay, maybe that sounds bad. It’s just that Danny’s his partner. And the idea of him getting on so well with Harry.... But it’s not as if MI6 agents have partners, he reminds himself. Right.

But the thing of it is, it wasn’t only that Danny had been watching Harry so closely. Because after Danny’s little deductive reveal to Harry, Harry might have started watching Danny. And he’s more subtle than Danny—for which Steve is grateful, because he thinks he’s really the only one who would have picked up on it, because he knows them both so well, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining the...  _tension_... that was growing between the two men during beers and shrimp at Kamekona’s.

Which might have been why he was so ready to refuse a nightcap in Harry’s hotel room. And again, not because he’s jealous. But, well, honestly, both Harry and Danny had already had more to drink than Steve (because he was driving, of course), and Steve knows what can happen with post-case drinking, especially an emotional one like that, if too much alcohol is consumed. He and Danny have had their own close calls in similar situations. Not that Steve _regrets_ that nothing’s ever happened. Of course not. That would be a monumental mistake.

As would this.

So when Harry makes them all cocktails—and seriously, martinis? Ridiculous. At least he stirs them, but that might only be because there’s no cocktail shaker in the room—but when he hands Danny his, their hands brush against each other, and maybe it seems to Steve like they linger for a little too long, and he is prepared to swear that Harry actually winks at Danny. So if he comes across as a bit of a brash and obvious... well, Danny’d probably call him a Neanderthal or something (and he’s not feeling uncouth around the two more sophisticated men, no, he’s really not, that’s not something he cares about, it’s not), but he plops himself down right up next to Danny, slinging his arm around the back of the sofa. And there’s nothing daring in that move, because it’s what he always does. He’s pretty sure he’s not making it up, though, when he thinks he sees some reaction flash through Harry’s eyes before he can bury it.

At any rate, Danny doesn’t seem to react at all, and maybe that comforts Steve a little, but he still finds he’s feeling a bit like he’s guarding something precious, the way he’s feeling, in his posture, in his bones, in his blood. And it’s starting to get to him. What the heck is his problem today anyway?

Maybe it’s partly that Danny’s been a little... weird... all day. What with his bonding with Sophie over clothing choices. And Steve still hasn’t worked that one out, because, alright, Danny has a teenage daughter too, but Grace isn’t at all like Sophie. Grace is sweet and smart and subtle—and Sophie is, and no offence to Harry, but Sophie is not exactly any of those things. Sweet, perhaps, but it seemed to Steve like a bit of a false sweetness, and he doesn’t think he’s saying that only because she ditched them so easily. His point is, he doesn’t think Danny got all that teenage girl fashion knowledge from Steve’s beloved Gracie.

And, okay, maybe it’s a bit weird that it’s all got Steve so riled up. He really doesn’t know what’s got into him. So, he tries to relax, lean back a bit, drink his martini, which he just really can’t get into, it’s just not his drink—and when Harry notices and offers him a Scotch, maybe he’s a bit relieved... until Danny takes it from him and drinks it as well as his own. Crap. He does not need a drunken and affectionate Danny to deal with right now.

Well.

If they were alone, maybe.

But not with Harry, is his point.

Once he has half the glass of Scotch in him he does relax a little, but he’s still distracted, and he blames that for the fact that he suddenly realizes he’s got his fingers rubbing gently at the back of Danny’s neck. As soon as he’s noticed that, he notices that Danny doesn’t seem bothered by it, if he’s even aware of it.

But Harry, Steve’s certain, _has_ noticed. Again, there’s just a flicker of something in his glance before he looks away and his eyes shutter down. Maybe because of that, or maybe because of whatever the heck his problem is today, Steve keeps his fingers moving, careful not to change the pressure or speed or intensity, but allowing himself to continue that subconscious gesture.

Eventually Danny, or possibly Harry, decides it’s late and they really should all get to bed, and Steve blames his heightened state of weirdness for the fact that for half of a millisecond he imagines the three of them in bed together. He really needs this day to end, and fast.

It’s that distraction, unfortunately, that leaves the opening for another lingering hug between Danny and Harry, and it almost looks like Harry’s going to kiss Danny on the cheek, but it turns out he whispers something in Danny’s ear instead, and Danny looks at Steve as he’s saying it... and the look in his eyes sends shivers down Steve’s spine. He whispers something back, and when Harry withdraws from the hug, he too looks over at Steve, and when Steve goes to shake his hand, he gets a slap on the shoulder as well, and a grin that he can’t even begin to interpret.

What he also can’t begin to interpret is the tension in the car as he drives Danny home. He has that vague sense he sometimes gets that Danny might be about to scold him for his bordering-on-inappropriate behavior. And maybe he’s adding his own self-judgment to that, because he knows he was a bit of an uncivilized oaf, and possibly even almost rude. He can’t really defend himself, either, because what’s he going to say? “I didn’t like how you two seemed to be flirting”? Yeah. That would go over well. Um.

The point is, he’s not surprised when they pull up to Danny’s and Danny says “Can you please come in for a bit," like it's not even really a question.

He nods, and after Danny gets out of the car he takes a deep breath and tries to gather himself for the scolding that’s to come, then follows Danny inside.

Once the door is shut, he thinks he’s landed in some alternate universe, because instead of being scolded, he finds himself shoved up against the wall.

“What was that about?” Danny’s breathing heavily against the side of his neck, his hands on Steve’s chest, pushing him, firmly—maybe a little _too_ firmly—into the wall. “What are you playing at, Steven? Huh?”

He’s expecting another shove, and for Danny to step back, maybe storm off, maybe pull back and punch him or something, so when instead he finds Danny’s lips pressing into his, he is completely taken aback. Until he’s not, and he just about dissolves into the kiss, and it’s not his fault, the groan that escapes his lips when Danny slips his tongue between them.

After far too short a time, Danny does let him go, and the look on his face is sheer gratified smug _I Knew It_.

“You were jealous.”

“I—I wasn’t.”

“ _Yes_ , you were. Jealous and possessive.”

“I....”

When he clearly has nothing to say for himself, and he’s expecting, again, to be punched or slapped or something, Danny grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him forward, turning him around and shoving him, _hard_ , down the hall... toward his bedroom.

Danny grabs him by the waist of his pants, just as he reaches the bed, yanks him back around, then pushes him down on the bed. His heart is racing. He’s half terrified and more than half hard. But he’s also already working out how to stop Danny from what he’s clearly about to do—as he stands looming over the bed and rips his shirt off. And Steve hates his life so much right now because he really really wants to let this happen... but he knows that Danny is at least a little bit drunk, and there’s more than a tiny part of his brain that is chanting Harry’s name and thinking—splitting his heart open in the process—thinking that it’s Harry Danny really wants, not Steve, and he does not want to get fucked by someone who is thinking of someone else. He’s done that himself enough in his life, and he’s not about to let Danny do it to him.

So when Danny falls on top of Steve—and he falters when he realizes Danny’s more than half hard as well—he quickly flips them, and pins Danny down on the bed, kneeling over him.

“Just stop. We are _not_ doing this.”

Danny’s squirming beneath him, and that’s not helping his resolve. “Why the fuck not?” He grits out between attempts to break free from Steve’s hold on his wrists.

“Because you’ve had three beers and two martinis, and you’ve been flirting with Harry all evening.”

And Danny goes completely still. “I’ve been _what_?!”

“You’ve been flirting with Harry!”

“You asshole. Are you kidding me right now?”

And it shocks Steve enough that he lets go of Danny’s hands, which is a huge tactical mistake, because Danny slides up the bed and out from under him, and just sits there, gaping at him.

“You really think that’s what’s been going on?”

“Um... yes?”

Danny barks out a sharp laugh that makes Steve flinch. “You are such an idiot sometimes.”

Steve sighs. He knows this. Especially when it comes to Danny. “I just know what I saw... and I know you like English accents....”

“Ohhh, you jerk.” And Steve’s completely caught off guard when Danny lunges forward and kisses him. “I knew it was bugging you, the connection Harry and I have. But how can you think I was flirting with him? And shut up about the accent. Yeah, alright, it’s sexy, but... seriously, Steven, if anything that would keep me _away_. I’m not about to repeat mistakes here.”

And suddenly, Danny’s softened. He’s reaching up and practically petting Steve, soothing him. And Steve is dizzy. So dizzy. Which isn’t that surprising, because Danny does that to him a lot. Which maybe should have helped him see a lot sooner, maybe why he’s as territorial about Danny as he is.

“So... Harry would be a mistake?”

Danny nearly rolls his eyes. “One I’m not even interested in making.”

“You’re not?”

The sigh Danny lets out is one Steve thinks he recognizes. “Do you want to know what Harry said to me when we left?”

Steve cringes. “I’m not sure. Do I?”

“He told me it was time I put you out of your misery.”

Steve really doesn’t like the sound of that. At all. His eyes narrow, and he feels it deep in his throat when he asks: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Harry is as observant as I am.”

The implication is clear. And it stings. “Meaning I’m not.”

“Well, you thought we were flirting, so, no. Obviously not.”

“Okay, so what did Harry observe?”

And Danny smiles. But it’s kind of an angry smile, Steve thinks. And it makes him feel very funny inside.

“You flirting with me. Actually, _not_ flirting. That’s not what you do. You just... _claim_ me. Like I’m yours and you’re daring him to try.”

“That wasn’t what I....” But he knows it’s a hollow protest. He knows it’s true.

Danny clearly does too, and he grins. “ _That’s_ what he meant, telling me to put you out of your misery.” He moves closer. “ _This_ is what he meant,” and Danny kisses him. “You don’t have to claim me, Steve. It doesn’t take a super spy to see it.”

His eyes are still closed, from the kiss, and he’s lightheaded, but he likes it.

“See what?” He opens his eyes.

“That you love me.” He’s grinning so smugly now, and Steve’s heart is thumping—or maybe not beating at all, he can’t really tell. And as Danny leans in to kiss him again, he whispers, into Steve’s mouth, “And that I love you, too.”

And Steve decides that Danny’s not really all that drunk after all, and they don’t do anything more than make out before they’re overwhelmed by it all anyway, and it was an exhausting day, so if they fall asleep before they can take it further, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Besides. They more than make up for it in the morning. Twice.

And when they meet Harry for a late breakfast, if he looks smugly satisfied and like he’s giving himself credit for any shift in their relationship, he doesn’t actually congratulate himself for it, not out loud anyway. But he does buy a bottle of champagne and insist on a toast about things being as they should and something about seeing the truth of what’s in front of you. And Steve knows this time Harry really does wink at Danny—but he doesn’t mind at all. Because he knows now, Danny is his, and if he takes comfort in the fact that Harry knows it too, well. You can’t really blame him.


End file.
